


The Second Date

by queerleader (autolatry)



Series: Failed Dates 'Verse [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Second Date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:46:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6541684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autolatry/pseuds/queerleader
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one time Stiles and Derek's date was sabotaged by homeless kittens.</p><p>OR</p><p>'Date ended up just being us taking care of a box of kittens I found on the way to your place.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Date

**Author's Note:**

> Another work inspired by [these](http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/post/136785066244/date-gone-wrong-prompts/) prompts.

A thin layer of condensation coated the bathroom mirror and Derek wiped it away with the flat of his hand after he exited the shower. He towelled his hair while he inspected the reflection staring back at him. Normally he would shave before a date, but Stiles had mentioned once that he liked Derek's stubble and if Stiles was a fan it was staying. After drying himself thoroughly and brushing his teeth, he picked up his sweatpants from the small stool in the corner of the room and tugged them up his legs, letting them rest low on his hips. 

The rest of the loft was a lot cooler than the bathroom and Derek let out a thankful sigh when a wave of crisp air washed over him. There was a distant rumble of chatter coming from the main room which was strange because Derek distinctly remembered telling Cora and Isaac to  _fuck off_ for the night. Isaac was usually quick to follow orders, always wanting to impress or please his alpha. Derek wondered if that was an effect possibly left over from the way his father had treated him. That was why Derek didn't ask much of the curly haired beta anymore. He didn't want to abuse his power at the expense of Isaac's wellbeing. It was probably Cora's fault anyway. Most things were Cora's fault. The girl was a bad influence and the complete opposite of Isaac. It was difficult to think of one time that his sister had done as he'd asked her. He shouldn't have been surprised; that was just how Hale women were. 

A fond smile had curled its way to Derek's lips at his thoughts and the alpha quickly wiped it away, replacing it with a frown as he leant against the doorway. "What are you two idiots still doing here?" There was an underlying growl to his question and he folded his arms over his chest, waiting for an answer. 

Cora whipped around from where she was sat on the couch, a bowl of salted popcorn perched in her lap. She and Isaac had been watching movies together all day because Jackson was over at Lydia's and Erica and Boyd were spending the week with Erica's grandmother in Philly. Derek had had to listen to the two of them bitching all morning about how much it sucked to be abandoned before they decided to shut the fuck up and abuse Derek's Netflix. To be fair, he had only bought the damn thing to keep the betas quiet anyway. "I am not being _sex_ _iled_ by my own brother." She said the word 'sexiled' like it's the most scandalous thing that had ever left her lips and she looked the very double of Laura in that moment. It made Derek's chest tight. 

"You're not being sexiled." Derek glared back at his younger sister and set his jaw. Isaac was shifting uncomfortably and Derek wondered if the kid was searching desperately for an escape route. "But I don't want you here when Stiles arrives. So leave. Now." 

"You can't tell me what to do," Cora snips, crossing her slender arms like a mirror image of Derek. 

"Alpha and legal guardian. So yes, I can."

"This is our house too."

"I pay the rent, I pay for your Netflix and I even paid for that popcorn. Start earning your keep, then maybe you can have an opinion." He probably shouldn't have felt as smug as he did, but there was something about winning an argument with a sibling that always made Derek's ego sing with pride. Maybe he was just an asshole, but Derek suspected all older brothers felt like that.

However, one never truly wins an argument with Cora Hale. Sure, Derek would get his way now, but he was positive this would come back to bite him in the ass later. His sister flung herself up and dragged Isaac with her. "Fine." She huffed, but there was nothing petulant about her tone. It was steely. A warning. Yeah, she was definitely going to key his car again. "Come on, Isaac. Let's go out and do some underage drinking or drugs. Or we could sell ourselves on street corners so that we can  _earn our keep_."

Derek rolled his eyes as the pair passed him. Isaac gave him an apologetic smile which Derek returned while Cora very deliberately crashed into his shoulder and muttered a quiet, "Bitch." He continued listening until the two made it out of the building and into the parking lot which held only Derek's Camero. There was a faint jingle of keys and the metallic sound of scraping. 

He probably deserved that. 

* * *

Half an hour later Derek was fully dressed and quickly clearing up Cora and Isaacs mess from earlier. He dumped the remaining popcorn in the trash, washed the dishes and stacked them away in the cupboards. Not that he would ever mention it  _ever_ , but the alpha found homemaking strangely satisfying. Although he often berated his betas for treating his place like a hotel, there was something relaxing and therapeutic about the methodic process of taking care of them. Cleaning and regaining order over his home was by far his favourite. 

Distantly, he heard Stiles' jeep juddering to a stop in the parking lot outside. The thing was still as unreliable as ever. How it was still functioning Derek would never understand. There was a thunk as Stiles hopped out of the vehicle and Derek turned away from the sink, removing his bright yellow marigolds that  _no one must ever know about_. He shook the suds from the rubber and stowed them away neatly where curious betas wouldn't stumble across his secret shame. He wasn't sure what he'd do if another embarrassing picture of himself ended up on Erica's Instagram again. 

It was raining heavily outside, the sky overcast, clouds dark and gloomy. The wind had picked up pretty bad about a quarter of an hour earlier and it didn't show any signs of letting up. Beacon Hills didn't like to conform to California's weather expectations. Tugging the sleeves of his favourite burgundy sweater down, Derek hopped onto the bench at the back of the main room with ease and closed the window with a harsh clang. The whole loft was freezing now, but at least it didn't smell of popcorn and teenager anymore. 

As he listened to the sound of Stiles ascending the stairs, nerves prickled up Derek's spine. Sure, his first date with the teen had begun and ended well, but there was that little blip in the middle where he had attacked a man in his place of work. (He was still adamant that the sick bastard deserved it). Apparently the waiter had reported Derek to the sheriff's station but nothing ever came of it. He couldn't think why. Still, Derek was desperate to make this date perfect. He wasn't used to freaking out over something as trivial as dating - Hell, he didn't even freak out when his life was being threatened - but there was something about Stiles that just... did weird things to him. The boy made Derek feel all funny and he  _really_  didn't want to address that little issue yet. 

The plan was simple: Take Stiles to a fancy restaurant that they  _weren't_ banned from, woo the man while maintaining a gentlemanly manner, refrain from punching anyone in the face and get Stiles home in one piece by twelve. He could do that. It wouldn't be so difficult. 

He was so caught up in his internal monologue that Derek didn't notice the strange change in Stiles' scent until the man was sliding open the door to the loft and stepping inside. Stiles was drenched. Soaked from head to toe. His once messy quiff was flattened to his forehead and the shirt he was wearing was plastered to his slender yet healthily muscular chest. Derek would be staring shamelessly in any other situation but right at that moment all Derek could do was gape at the large, sodden cardboard box that Stiles was gripping between his trembling hands. 

Stiles shivered and droplets of rainwater splattered onto the floor. "Did you know someone keyed your car again?"

"No," Derek said. His eyes were wide and fixated on the box. He hadn't heard Stiles' question, his response had been solely directed at that box. That  _invasion_. 

Looking like he had swum to Derek's loft instead of driving, Stiles stepped further into the room, frowning. "Well, they did. You've got 'DEREK IS A LITTLE BITCH' engraved across the hood. Man, someone really has it out for you. I'd say it was Lydia getting revenge on you for stealing her man but I've come to terms with the fact that my epic love story with her was completely one-sided. Maybe it was Peter. Did you stretch his v-necks again?"

"No," He repeated, still looking unblinkingly at the box and its  _forbidden_ contents. "No."

Stiles blinked and smacked his lips together with a wet smack. "C'mon, big guy. We've been working on broadening your vocabulary. Use your words. I believe in you."

Patronising tone aside, Stiles was right. He needed to communicate clearer but the betrayal was caught in his throat and stopped him from being able to form sentences. Instead, he pointed at the box and emphasised, " _No_."

Stiles's cheeks were flushed from the cold and his lips were pink and parted as he shivered in his wet clothes. He flicked his eyes down at the box and Derek watched and understanding dawned in his eyes. "Oh." He nodded and looked back up at Derek who was still pointing. "I have a box of kittens."

"No."

"Yes." The boy shuffled soggily toward the coffee table and placed the mewling box down on top of it. They smelt gross. The air was thick with the scent of damp fur and grime from what Derek suspected was the sidewalk. It was disgusting and frankly Derek hated cats at the best of times. Stiles knew that. And Derek knew that Stiles knew that because when he found out he had laughed for a solid twenty minutes and made continuous inappropriate and downright offensive dog jokes for two weeks straight. "So, funny story," Derek highly doubted this story would be even slightly amusing. "I was driving over and I saw this guy by the side of the road trying to sell these sweet little furballs and when it started to rain the asswipe just stood up and  _left them there_. Can you believe that guy? It was like that scene from Oliver. You know, the cat version? There was no other option. I had no choice."

Stiles spoke with such finality that Derek didn't even attempt to argue. Instead, he heaved a heavy, put-upon sigh and lead Stiles in the direction of his bedroom so the boy could change out of his ruined clothes. 

* * *

This wasn't the way Derek had expected his night to go. He had hoped for an incident free dinner with a cute guy and maybe another heart-stopping goodnight kiss. Maybe even a little groping in the back of his now vandalised Camero. ( _Thank you, Cora._ ) Sitting cross-legged with Stiles on the living room rug, the human dressed in one of Derek's old sleep shirts and a pair of his sweats while the two dried off a box of abandoned kittens had  _not_ been on the cards. And yet there was something so simple, peaceful and intimate about the moment that Derek couldn't help but smile. 

As it turned out, Kittens weren't all that bad. They weren't  _great_ , but they weren't the source of all life's problems. Derek would try and remember that in the future. They were actually kind of, slightly, a tiny bit cute. If you squinted and turned your head. Maybe dimmed the lights a little. Okay, they were adorable, but Derek would be damned it he was admitting that anytime soon. Especially not to Stiles who was propped up against the coffee table, smiling smugly. The kitten he was snuggling wriggled and scratched his hand in an attempt to escape and Derek tried not to be too satisfied when Stiles yelped and sucked on his finger. 

"I'm wounded," Stiles muttered solemnly. He held out his faintly cut finger and waggled it in front of Derek's eyes for emphasis. There were a few tiny beads of blood pooling at the surface, but it was nothing that wouldn't heal in a day or two. "Your kitten has hurt me."

Not even Stiles shuffling over on his knees and clambering into Derek's lap was enough to distract him from that little statement. "Excuse me?" Derek asked as Stiles manoeuvred himself until he was in a more comfortable straddling position. The boy had his arms curled around Derek's shoulders and he lingeringly pressed his chapped lips to Derek's stubbled cheek. Still, Derek stayed strong. "Those are  _not_ my kittens."

Stiles let out what was possibly the most pitiful whine Derek had ever heard a grown man make and buried his face in the crook of the werewolf's neck. He huffed a quiet breath and tightened his arms. "But, Derek, they have nowhere else to go!" Derek found it difficult to understand how the eighteen-year-old that was currently hijacking his lap could revert back to a child just so quickly. "You're the only person who has the room - and the  _heart_ \- to take them in." Sure, Derek knew that this was an act and that Stiles was a huge fucking faker, but his voice was actually wobbling now and Derek was dying inside.

"You're using unfair tactics and I will not stand for it," He gritted out his complaint, but Derek knew it was a lost cause. Stiles had won. Stiles always won. 

The boy peeked out from under his lashes and pressed a feather-light, teasing kiss to Derek's Adam's apple. The werewolf shivered as that little upturned nose ran it's way up the column of Derek's throat and Stiles all out  _grinned_. He didn't even bother hiding his smug satisfaction at his victory over Derek. "Did they work?"

Derek huffed and pushed Stiles out of his lap. He tried not to enjoy the sight of Stiles falling flat on his ass with an indignant grunt  _too_ much as he got up and went to wrangle the kittens. "You know fine well they worked. Now stop looking so proud and help me catch them."

Fun Fact: Kitten catching is a lot harder than would be expected. For all there were only five kittens, the little bastards had managed to get  _everywhere_. There was one under the sofa, one on the windowsill and one had even managed to get its claws trapped in Derek's duvet and was currently doing an outstanding imitation of the crucifixion. And, of course, while you were busy catching one kitten another would take the opportunity to fuck off again. Eventually, human/werewolf intelligence won out when the pair decided that Stiles would stand guard over the captured kittens while Derek hunted for the others. And it had only taken them three-quarters of an hour to accomplish. 

"Y'know, I had a really good time tonight." Stiles was now redressed in his freshly dried clothes and standing by the door to the loft, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Derek frowned. This wasn't the date he had planned at all and he was pretty sure this would qualify as one of those 'disastrous dates' he'd read about in Erica's lady magazines. But Stiles wasn't lying, not that Derek could tell anyway. Derek had had a good time too but he wasn't sure that counted since he was pretty positive that spending the night in a jail cell with Stiles would also be a pleasant experience. "You did?" He asked hesitantly, raising both brows. 

"I know this wasn't what you had in mind for tonight," Stiles explained, waving one arm absently. He didn't miss how the boy edged ever so slightly closer. "But I could get used to rainy days in with you."

The grin that had spread across Derek's face must have done something for Stiles because he suddenly found himself with two arms full of teenage boy. Stiles' dry lips slotted perfectly against Derek's and the man took a moment to enjoy the stillness of the kiss. Stiles still smelt damp and earthy but the undercurrent of burnt honey made Derek shudder and soon the boy was taking control of the kiss, pushing his warm, wet tongue into Derek's waiting mouth. Derek gripped Stiles' slender hips and  _squeezed_. Just the thought that Stiles was  _here_ in Derek's loft, on a date with Derek, enjoying spending time with Derek was almost too much. He wanted more. Wanted to beg Stiles not to leave, to stay the night and soak Derek's sheets with his intoxicating scent. Stiles keened and  _fuck_ -

"Ahem." 

Derek and Stiles leapt apart like a couple of naughty schoolboys caught making out behind the bleachers. The interruption had come from one Cora Hale who was stood in the doorway looking thoroughly unamused. Isaac was positioned behind her with  _Scott_ of all people bringing up the rear. There was a heavy silence before Cora finally spoke. "I have been scarred."

"I have conflicting emotions." Scott chimed in, looking between Stiles and Derek with both betrayal and pride for his best friend in his eyes. 

Derek's view of Scott was suddenly blocked by a mass of blond curls flashing across his vision. Isacc skidded further into the main room and turned to look back at Derek with wide eyes. "Are those kittens?"

The group disbanded after that with Cora and Scott going to join Isaac by the mound of scrambling felines. Derek turned back to Stiles who had the receding traces of a blush lingering on his cheeks. He bit his lip before tilting his head up a touch to press a kiss to the corner of Derek's mouth. "You should call me," He smiled, looking a little more confident again and Derek's heart gave a squeeze. "And, err, good luck with them."

Derek wasn't sure if Stiles had meant the kittens or the betas but as he listened to the boy's footsteps disappear out of the building, Derek was positive he could handle anything.

"You disgust me."

"Shut up, Cora."


End file.
